Page 25 of Bound By Blood
"At this hour?" I sit up, reaching for the healer's robes draped across the chamber's single chair. "Is someone injured?"
"Not injured, Lady. But..." Gorth's voice carries a careful neutrality that suggests they instructed him to reveal nothing. "He asks that you come immediately."
I dress quickly, securing my hair in practical braids that keep it away from my face during healing work. Whatever Drokhan wants to discuss, I suspect it relates to this afternoon's unexpected connection. Perhaps he's decided that humans who show mystical abilities pose too great a risk to clan security.
Perhaps he's right.
The council chamber lies deeper in the mountain stronghold than I've previously traveled. Gorth leads me through passages carved directly from living rock, their walls decorated with scenes of Orc history rendered in relief. Warriors battling impossible monsters. Healers call down mountain spirits. Chiefs receiving blessings from robed figures whose faces remain mysteriously obscured.
Who are the robed figures?The artistic style suggests these reliefs are ancient, predating current conflicts by centuries. But the recurring image of healers working alongside warriors implies a tradition of spiritual alliance that modern politics have largely forgotten.
We reach a circular chamber lit by oil lamps mounted in iron sconces. The space feels ceremonial rather than administrative, with a raised dais at the center surrounded by concentric rings of stone benches. Drokhan stands beside the dais, no longer wearing the casual clothing from our healing session but full ceremonial armor that makes him appear even more imposing than usual.
He's not alone. Three elder Orcs occupy the front bench, their advanced age clear in silver-streaked hair and deeply lined faces. Clan elders, I realize, are the advisors who help guide major decisions affecting tribal welfare.
This is a formal proceeding. Whatever he wants to discuss has official weight.
"Lady Eirian," Drokhan greets me with the same careful neutrality Gorth employed. "Thank you for coming. Please, sit."
He gestures toward a stone chair positioned directly opposite the dais. Not quite the defendant's dock, but clearly designed to place me at the focal point of whatever discussion follows.
I take the seat, keeping my expression composed despite the anxiety clawing at my chest. "You wished to speak with me, Chief Drokhan?"
"We wished to speak with you," corrects the eldest of the three advisors, a weathered female whose voice carries absolute authority. "About what occurred during today's healing session."
They know.Somehow, despite the privacy of the grotto and the absence of witnesses, knowledge of our connection has reached the clan leadership. Either Drokhan reported it himself, or Orc society possesses methods of monitoring spiritual events that I don't understand.
"I provided medical treatment for an infected wound," I say carefully. "Using techniques that combined human herbal knowledge with local practices."
"Local practices." The second elder, a massive male whose battle scars speak of decades of warfare, leans forward with interest. "Specify these practices."
No point in attempting deception. They clearly possess enough information to evaluate the accuracy of my response.
"I spoke blessing words over the healing waters. Words I learned from my mother's research into your ancestral traditions. And I..." The admission sticks in my throat. "I attempted to synchronize my healing efforts with the elemental magic flowing through the mountain springs."
"Did you succeed?"
The question comes from the third elder, whose piercing gaze suggests she's accustomed to detecting lies. I stare directly, drawing on the same composure that helped me survive in House Thorne's political environment.
"Yes."
"And during this process, did you experience any unusual sensations? Connections beyond normal healer-patient interaction?"
Here it comes.The question that determines whether I'm seen as a dangerous sorceress or something else entirely.
"We made contact. Brief physical contact during the healing process. And for a moment, I sensed..." I search for words that convey the experience without overstating its significance. "I sensed his emotional state more clearly than simple observation would allow."
"She tasted my thoughts," Drokhan says, speaking for the first time since the formal questioning began. "And I felt her healing intention as clearly as physical touch."
The three elders exchange glances that carry entire conversations in the space of heartbeats. Whatever they're deciding involves more than simple curiosity about human magical abilities.
"Chief Drokhan," the eldest speaks again, "you understand the implications of what you're describing?"
"I do."
"Then you also understand why this matter requires formal consideration by the clan council?"
"I do."
